More Than Meets the Eye
by disillusionist9
Summary: It's time for the Yule Ball and Millicent is sure Blaise is trying to ask her as a joke. Blaise/Millicent, Vince/Ernie ONESHOT for SableUnstable, COMPLETE


"Are you going to sit there reading and ignore me all night?" Blaise asked with a frown.

Millicent kept her face buried in her textbook, a slim tome for beginners in alchemy. She rather hated all the suggestions her family gave her when deciding her future. Sign a marriage contract? No chance in hell if the political climate continued like it was. She intended to pursue an actual, fulfilling career. After years of practice ignoring her father's parade of suitors, Millicent could bat away Blaise's whining with ease.

"Blaise, would you please go away? You're interrupting valuable study time."

"Shut up, Pansy, I'm not talking to you. And you're not even studying...that's _Witch Weekly_."

Pansy faked a yawn, not quite proficient enough at the move at fourteen as she would be at twenty, tempting long lines of Quidditch professionals wrapped around her little finger. It would have worked on Draco, though, but not the son of Elora Zabini. "Aware of that. Don't care. Go away."

Millicent tuned them out as she continued to read. The bright symbols on the notebook reminded her of a children's storybook, but it would have to do. She knew nothing of the art of alchemy and it hadn't been included on the Hogwarts curriculum since before her grandfather attended. Pointedly ignoring Blaise who kept attempting to ask her to the Yule Ball (really, his intention was written all over his face) and she wasn't about to be the butt of another joke. No way in three salt circles was Blaise Zabini asking her for any other reason than pity or a bet. Her half-blood status assured her of that. She would just wait for Vince to ask her since her friend wouldn't be able to buck up the courage to ask Ernie Macmillan like he really wanted to.

When Blaise finally stood up in a huff to go back to his familiar nest of Slytherin boys, Millicent breathed again. A brief glance towards Pansy assured her the slim witch was glaring over at the group as if to say _and stay there._

"Did Vince ask you, yet?" Pansy asked when they retired to their dorm for the night. Their cheeks were still a bit pink after almost running into two older girls that were obviously locked in a private moment, ending with one of them enthusiastically agreeing to go to the ball with the other.

"Not yet but I think he will soon. There's not much time left for us to order robes."

Pansy nodded, "I'm sure my mother can contact someone for you, Millie. You won't be stuck in something awful if Vince waits until the last moment to ask you, I promise. You'll catch that lovely Beauxbatons boy, yet."

Millie's pink cheeks darkened to a pleasant shade of red and she hung her head forward so her dark hair could cover her face.

* * *

Vince leaned his forearms on his thighs next to Millie, both of them partially hidden behind a large Christmas tree in the corner of the transformed Great Hall. His intricate tie, courtesy of Pansy, was loose now after dancing along with the rest of the attendees. Millie was perfectly content to sway on the sidelines with Daphne and a few of the Durmstrang girls who hadn't going with anyone; the wizards they were betrothed to were all back in their home countries and unable to make the trip, anyway.

One of the witches, wrapped snugly in red velvet from her wrists to her ankles, dotted with small slits here and there to imply the figure beneath, had asked if she could touch the sleeve of Millie's gown. A warm swell of pride bubbled up as the slimmer, prettier witch ran her fingers through the fine feathers decorating her dress, her eyes fixated on the way the feathers changed from dark purples to shiny blues as they moved.

"They're not real," Millie insisted. "Madame Malkin is really a very skilled seamstress, she can mimic any fabric or decoration she wants."

"Truly? I will need to write this Madame Malkin for my wedding next March. My mother insists on pearls, so many pearls, but to have a way to copy that look..."

She lost herself in the quiet conversation, enjoying the attention to what she had to say. Even with all the attention on her future at home, she felt like she was largely ignored, and tried to not let it bother her overmuch. She kept going over every detail of the conversation in her head and hoping she hadn't made a fool of herself, when Vince sat up next to her.

"Would you like some more punch, Millie?"

His smile was infectious, and she couldn't help but lightly pinch one of his dimpled cheeks. She slipped her shoes back on. The cool satin fabric vastly differed from how much the black heels had already pinched her feet, but she needed to move and not just sit at the table all night. "You're looking a bit red, still, Vince, after dancing so close to Macmillan. I'll grab us a few glasses."

The line by the punchbowl stretched further than before the dancing started, so she resigned to wait a few moments before she would be able to grab two servings. As soon as she got the front, however, the bowl of crimson was Vanished by a sour-looking Professor Snape.

"Tampered," he snapped quietly, stalking around the room and vanishing each bowl that didn't meet muster. Millicent saw one of the Weasley twins getting what looked to be a thorough verbal dressing down from his Head of House.

"Damn shame, that was the best tasting bowl here."

Millie rolled her eyes. "Blaise, they were all the _same_ sort of punch before Weasley decided to draw attention to himself again."

He shrugged, picking at his sleeves to undo the buttons, rolling them up his arms as he spoke. "Shall I escort you across the hall to the only remaining bowl?"

"I'm grabbing some for Vince, too," she said, biting her lip as she tried not to look at the way his hands worked on the white fabric of his shirt.

"An extra set of hands would be beneficial then. Let's go."

Queueing in the even longer line for punch meant that Millie could fully appreciate her foolhardy shoe decisions. She didn't have the built up callouses in the right places. Trying to be discreet she rolled her feet around a bit to find a spot on the soles of her feet that didn't hurt as much yet.

" _Molliare._ "

Blaise's spellcasting was quiet, but he was standing close enough behind her to make goosebumps bloom across her neck and arms, as his cushioning charm did its work on her shoes and aching feet.

"Thank you," she said, a bit more enthusiastically than she intended but really, those shoes were murder. She would never wear heels without the charm again.

If Blaise were one to shrug, he would have at that moment. "My mother casts it on her feet every time we go to some event with her husband du jour. And you looked miserable, did Vince step on your foot?"

She lightly hit his chest, making him smirk. "Be nice. He's having a good time and _no_ he did not step on my feet. We haven't danced much tonight, yet, because my feet were sore just from standing."

"You could be like that Weasley girl and leave your shoes at your table," Blaise observed.

Sure enough, Ginny was sliding around on the floor near her date, the Longbottom boy. Millie sniffed. "Not my style of dancing." Several people abandoned the queue as a louder song filled the room, something they all recognized from the wizarding wireless. Millie took the opportunity in the confusion to grab three glasses. "Here, you take mine and I'll carry Vince's."

By the time they reached the table where Vince was when Millie left, he was already gone and likely dancing in the mill of people at the center, or had convinced Ernie to stroll outside with the topiary. Blaise drained the less-than sufficiently sized glass in his hand, and stood near Millie while he stared at the centerpiece. Tinkling notes of a softer Christmas song started to play.

"What kind of dancing do you like, then?"

Though the question was presented innocently enough, Millie's stomach flipped a bit. She looked up at Blaise's question, pulling her gaze away from searching for Vince in the crowd. "What?"

Blaise set his empty glass down and took her hand. His lower lip was pulled between his teeth, but he was smiling softly at the same time. She allowed herself to be lead to the dance floor, the barest edge of it near that same Christmas tree.

"Dance with me, please, Millie?" Blaise asked, so sincere that it made her blink in surprise, and blurt out a quiet, "Sure."

There were a few moments where Millie moved stiffly several inches away from Blaise with her hands in his hands, but their bodies took over and they remembered all the dance lessons preparing them for moments like this. Her hand found his shoulder and his wrapped around her waist, and they swayed gently. Maybe Millie's pretty dress started to itch where Blaise's arm was pressed into her side, and there was a chance that Blaise could feel his sock sliding down into his shoe, making the steps uncomfortable, but neither of them complained.

* * *

 _Prompted by SableUnstable on tumblr, a very specific type of request. I hope this satisfies that!_


End file.
